


Breaking and Entering and Cappuccinos

by SingingFlames



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cappuccinos, Gen, Humor, Hunting Lucifer, Season/Series 12, These Two Need More Screen Time Together, separated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:10:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingFlames/pseuds/SingingFlames
Summary: Crowley and Castiel investigate another possible lead in their search for Lucifer. Crowley laments a poorly made cappuccino.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 1300+  
> Warnings: None  
> A/N: I just can’t get enough of these two. And somehow I can see Crowley doing this if/when Cas orders something.

The cappuccino was crap.

Crowley grimaced, eyes focused on the upper story office window of the neighboring building. He ignored the pebbled floor of the roof under his feet, the multitude of vents scattered about, and the single door permitting access to the area. That same roof access hid him (mostly) from his target. Taking no chances, Crowley had also cloaked himself in an invisibility enchantment. One couldn’t be too careful. Eyes never leaving the window - and what little he could see of the back of the man’s head - he tapped a steady beat on the warm, paper cup in his hand.

Horrid stuff. It couldn’t rightly be called a cappuccino. If he’d wanted steamed milk, he’d have ordered a latte. Everyone knew cappuccinos had foam, not bloody steamed milk. That little bint had no right calling herself a barista.

Street vendors.

Bright side, though, the wait wasn’t ruining Castiel’s drink, assuming his was similarly bollocked up. Cappuccinos should be drunk promptly, whereas the angel’s drink was slowly cooling on a nearby ledge, untouched. Speaking of Castiel…

Crowley lifted his phone in the general vicinity of his mouth. The display showed an active call, the timer just passing the sixteen minute mark. “Pet? Are you planning on joining me?”

Castiel’s gruff, and exasperated, voice came over the speaker. “I will ‘join you’ if and when I can find a way inside.” The frustrated sigh that followed would have been inaudible to humans, but Crowley wasn’t human. “This would have been infinitely easier had you teleported me up there with you.”

“Spur of the moment. Spur of the moment. Trust me, had I known it’d take this long for you to find a door, I’d have made the time to nab you.”

“Finding doors is easy. I’ve found six. They’re all locked. Surely, you can spare a moment to come get me?”

Crowley’s lip quirked. They’d been over this. As a rule, he did not enjoy repeating himself. But if the alternative was contemplating the virtues of foam over steamed milk, he’d take a good argument any day. “We’re hunting Lucifer here, doll. If that bloke up yonder is, in fact, the devil, I’m not flaunting my abilities by bopping in and out where he could sense them.”

“You have seen no actual evidence that he is Lucifer.”

He rolled his eyes. True, but that was the point, wasn’t it? “It’s the fact that I can’t feel anything from his office that drew my attention. It’s a void. He’s shielded it, and himself, somehow. Of course, had I realized that the gentleman was currently occupying his office, I’d have waited before popping up here. Not many can hide themselves so completely, so utterly, from my senses. But Lucifer is strong enough to do so.” He narrowed his eyes at the distant window and the man’s head. “Now, what I’d really fancy up here is an angel, someone who could recognize his big brother, regardless of any shielding he has up. You know, so I’m not wasting my time, standing about on a roof.”

The phone was silent for a few seconds before Castiel spoke again. “We could wait for him to leave. I would be able to check then.”

“Wonderful plan, except there’s exits on both sides of his building, not to mention the car park in the basement. We’ve no idea how he’ll leave.” Crowley shrugged, never mind that Castiel couldn’t see him. “And what I’ve seen of him is a bit limited. Brown hair. Dark suit. I rather imagine that describes a fair number of blokes inside. Do us a favor, and get up here.”

Crowley could just imagine the angel’s glare. He smirked.

“Fine. I’ll make this door work,” Castiel muttered.

Well, that sounded interesting.

“Pray tell, what’s your plan?” Crowley asked.

“I’ll pick the lock.”

“Really. Since when did you become a lockpick?” Crowley sipped from his drink, grimaced and shot a brief glare at the offending drink.

“I watched Sam do it. Once.”

“Right then. How could this go wrong?”

“Quiet,” Castiel cut him off. “I need to focus.”

“Please, continue breaking and entering.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

He leaned back, casually eyeing the human above and listening to the soft noises from the phone. Sighing, he sipped his not-cappuccino. He tapped his fingers against the cup. Rolling his eyes, he shifted his weight, first one way, then back. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet. The minutes crawled.

Bloody Hell, this was boring.

“Dove?”

“Quiet. I’m almost-”

A high-pitched wail cut through the speakers, followed by Castiel’s startled exclamation. Crowley raised a brow.

“Is that an alarm?”

“Uh, yes. I need to leave.”

Crowley checked the call’s timer. “It took you seven minutes to set off an alarm?”

“Shut up, Crowley!” The angel’s voice jarred, as if he was running or jogging.

“You know, if I want to set off an alarm, I can get it done in a few seconds. Less, even.”

“I didn’t want to… Just shut up.” A metallic creak and slam - the pickup’s door - muffled the last of Castiel’s words.

Crowley opened his mouth, another jab on the tip of his tongue, when movement in the window caught his attention. “Oi, he’s turning.” Forgetting his banter, he focused on the distant human. If Castiel couldn’t get up here, they’d have to track him later. Which would be insanely easier if they knew whom they were looking for. The man’s profile crept into view. “Let’s see your face, darling. Just a wee bit- Oh.”

Crowley vanished.

 

Castiel flinched when Crowley reappeared in the pickup. The vehicle lurched to the side before the angel regained control. “What are you…?”

“That wasn’t Lucifer,” Crowley said, voice echoing oddly through the phones until he disconnected the call. With one hand, he pocketed his device, the other still holding his cup.

“You recognized him?”

“Yes. And that one would never be stupid enough to- oh,” Crowley cast a look at his companion, “sorry mate, nothing against you - he’d never give himself over to Lucifer.”

Castiel shot a brief glare at him before returning his attention to the road. “Who was it?”

“Stark.”

The angel tilted his head, adopting what Crowley had dubbed his ‘constipated’ look. Castiel opened his mouth, paused for a moment, shook his head, then said in a hesitant voice, “Ironman?”

“Wha- No! What?” Very little flabbergasted Crowley but trust Castiel to find a way. “Don, not Tony! He may wear a power suit but not that kind. Witch. Strong one, too. If he, his wife and Mother ever got in a row, I’d leave the state. Hell, the country even. Possibly this plain of existence.” Crowley shook his head. “You have the most eclectic knowledge base. Since when do you read comics?”

“I don’t.” Castiel shrugged. “Dean and Sam watched ‘The Avengers’ once.”

“Huh.” Crowley snorted. “What’d you think of it?”

“They got Thor wrong.” The angel raised his brows. “And Gabriel, although my brother probably would have been amused by their interpretation.”

“Well, that’s humans for you, always buggering things up.” Crowley lifted his drink and grimaced at it.

Castiel glanced at the cup. “Where’s my drink?”

“Your cappuccino’s on the roof. No loss, really. It was more of a latte. That barista should be sacked. She couldn’t foam milk to save her life.”

“I asked for a coffee. Nothing else.”

“Yes, I know. And I ordered you a cappuccino. You ought to expand your tastes. Although this,” Crowley raised his cup, “is a piss poor example.” He considered the drink for a few moments. “What say we run by a real cafe and I’ll get us something decent?”

“Coffee. I just want coffee. That’s all.”

“Of course, mate.”

Castiel stared at him. “I’ll come in with you.”

“It’s a date,” Crowley said with a smirk.

“No, it’s a ‘I don’t trust you to get a simple coffee’.”

“Cas, stop flirting with me. You only embarrass yourself.”

“Shut up.”


End file.
